


Sleep Tight, Oran

by HellIsEmpty



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crimes & Criminals, Eventual Romance, F/F, Falling In Love, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Lesbian Character, Loneliness, Manipulation, Medicinal Drug Use, No Sex, Political Parties, Politics, Prison, Recreational Drug Use, Redemption, Romance, Slow Burn, War Crimes, Women In Power
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:27:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24999061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellIsEmpty/pseuds/HellIsEmpty
Summary: After five years in prison for the many crimes she committed, Aaron Cole is back on the out and finds her way back to serving the country and the government. Addicted to the thrills of power, she is trying to regain as much control as she is able to. However, it isn't possible anymore for her without the protection of all and mighty Alexander d'Crecy and the guy always wants something in return. In the meantime, she falls for a naive but loving sister of a human trafficker, Jennifer. The politics isn't the way she knew it before prison, for a movement emerges that advocates for ethical treatment of people outside of the ruling caste. As she struggles to adjust and collect as many votes as possible, it turns out she does have a soul after all. Or does she?This is a strictly political fiction story in an alternative universe where Algeria is governed by a small group of privileged people and it is only very slowly beginning to change. This is a story of how people adapt to a new political reality, how the society deals with and resolves their tensions and inequality issues.
Kudos: 1





	1. Softly

She had always dreamed of Oran as it was outside of the thin iron walls encircling her small cell very near the sea. She liked the smell of salty water and when it was nearing a storm, the warm air becoming suddenly dark and chilly, quivering among the hot gusts of midday sun still lingering about the shore. And when she asked for a move to a better cell, so that she could look at the sea, Alex complied – not that it ever mattered to him in any way. People got away with any kind of cruelty – but mostly, when it was performed in the secrecy of their houses. Oh, Alexander had nothing of cruelty inside his heart, and for that very reason he would not understand how that music played on Cole's heartstrings. It performed most beautifully inside that dark spot of hers, where she starved a couple of hundred people to their death and got outraged media covers for it, so as Alexander sagaciously noted, if you can't stop yourself from doing it in public, then deal with the consequences of it. 

She had a room with a sea view, near the water, and she would spend her lonely days breathing in the salty air and with people walking busily about, working at the harbour, the air of hard work and of sweat. He would send her a letter once in a while, and the letter said – mostly – of the affairs at the government and why he would be always so irked and exasperated at the people, forever changing their mind, not very attached to any idea of actually governing. With almost a hundred thousand people with the right to vote and entire villages dying away of thirst and of hunger, it was most important to find a viable solution, not even a permanent one, but one that you could work upon and then move on from there. He was curious what her thoughts were, but she didn't think he ever really wanted her advice. You don't ask for advice someone who isn't nearly smart enough not to produce so much evidence for their crimes that they end up where she ended up – outside of the local politics, which was her home, and away from producing even more drama in a place where every decision is like a hand grabbing the last meal of yet another starved man or woman outside of the city. 

She smiled to herself, for she wasn't entirely unhappy about her predicament. Her sentence was nearing an end – a nice finishing touch to her fate, which was to be either death or reintegration into society, that is, leniency, for killing this many people meant nothing in the eyes of the corrupt government. She was promised leniency by the ruling party, but the elections could be lost and she would need to involve herself in treacheous talks that Alexander wouldn't like her to be involved in, nevertheless, in the end, it was always the corrupt that prevailed, and it was the lost, like she was lost, that got their freedom so that they could starve another population to their death. Death had a name in Oran – it was People's Death, and it chose its victims very carefully, staying away from the ruling party and the few people that had land and a vote each and every five years.

For Cole was the mother of the autocratic regime she had created herself, and very proud of it. Alexander took it as it was fifteen years ago, a small, underpopulated desert, in need of deep reform. He was looking for someone like her to run the country with him. They wouldn't stop working, up until it was well after midnight, and then she would take a walk to the shore and think of every way she could improve the country. No one else really wanted to make that effort, to stay up late so that they could create something out of nothing, out of the ashes, the sand, the sun-scorched pavements and the desert that stretches as far as eyes can see, and the sea producing nothing but salt, hot, blinding to the eyes in the full midday sun, utterly useless. 

She was sitting outside and relaxing in the full sun of a lazy, hot Sunday evening, sun biting around the metal bars and tall sandstones of the prison. 

'Ma'am, you've a guest', the officer said, very quietly, careful not to disturb her. Her connections meant more than any sentence could. The officer had to swallow down the disgust so that she could be gentle with her. 

Cole got to her feet drowsily. 

'Is it not a Sunday?', she asked, disbelieving. No one ever paid her a visit on a Sunday. She didn't have friends, just connections. 

'Aye, m'lady. The prime minister asked to see you.' 

She wondered if it should ever make any difference to her, that they asked. It wasn't like she was in a position to say no to them. Hey, I never invited you to the prison you put me in, so get lost. 

'Have him see me, then.' 

She sat back down, resigned. The officer knelt at her side and cuffed both her hands at the wrists, sighing. She came back with another chair, and then placed a mug of water with a slice of lemon and a mint leaf inside it on the coffee table next to it. Cole watched her movements, her cheeks flushed red from the harsh African sun. 

The only reason she liked the sea better was because if was different from the desert that was everywhere else. Sometimes she wondered if the kind of cruelty she showed was probably inevitable in a country like that, where your eyes could never rest from either the bleak pale surface of the sea or white, bathed in sun sand. It was like a prison whithin a prison that was Oran, and that she was forever addicted to, for power was even more addictive than the sleeping pills she got so used to. They had to have her detox herself for a month inside her house, in perfect secrecy, just her and Alexander holding her hand when she trembled and thrashed in her pursue of a clean mind. She remembered her heart beating so fast, it was only two times in her life when it did: a few days after going off diazepam and when she was arrested in a coup and her power was taken away from her. They weren't allowed to give her valium in prison, but she would get her power back soon, as soon as she was out of these gates.

The prime minister approached her softly, stepping carefully on the withered grass. When they were this short on water, they wouldn't let even the high officials water their garden plants, and her prison plants died right after the early spring rains were gone. She missed greenery. 

'Sorry to interrupt you on a Sunday', he said. 'I've business to discuss with you, and I need to have it done today.'

'It's not like I'm doing anything but rotting away, so go ahead. Have a seat', she motioned to him to sit on the chair. 'You should really come one day and tell me: you're out, you're free to go. I can see clearly now that Alexander has no idea how to do a civil conflict.'

'Yes', he admitted. 'And I think based on your past experiences, you don't know how to manage a conflict either. That's not what I wanted to hear from you, complaining. You should be grateful I didn't have you put down like a dog. I want you to get ready to reappear in the parliament next week. Get dressed, wash yourself. I think you should really start to treat your depression. I'm expecting a lot from you. It's going to take some time before people get used to you in the government, so the sooner you show up, the better. But you're on your own. You have to talk to Alexander to take you on his team.'

She was at a loss for words. Was she really on the out already? 

'He's not going to treat me right', she said, matter-of-factly. 

He poured himself some water into a glass and took a sip leisurely. 

'Why should he? It's time for you to choose one side, Aaron. No one is going to look after you forever, if you change sides whenever an election happens.'

'I've ran this country for nearly a decade', she said, pretending to be offended, for the appearances' sake. 'I'm only ever on the country's side. Party connections don't interest me.'

'Yes, and that's why you're here, rotting away. Don't be ridiculous. I want you to really think hard before you do anything, before you talk to anybody but Alex. I've convinced him to take you on, and I expect your full cooperation.'

'Or what', her eyes flashed. 'You'll have me killed?'

'I don't even need to. Stray, and see what happens. Someone else can take you on, but they go down as soon as they fuck with us. Want to fuck with us? Might as well kill yourself already, for we don't treat traitors very well.' He wasn't angry at all, from the way he was speaking. She could tell he was bored to death from the constant meetings and the government forever pushing conflicting ideas. He was begging her to come back and run the place, clean it from the rats that ate at its heart.

'That's why you've lost the upcoming elections already', she said, laughing quietly to herself. She was unphased. 'Because you don't take well to traitors. That's why you're keeping a traitor right at the heart of your organisation.'

She lied back in her chair and mused for a while. She considered giving herself up to Alex again. He would protect her, that was for sure, he would expect her to win a couple of votes, especially among the city's population who loved her unconditionally. She never said anything but lies but she kept their depraved lives intact. She would never arrest them for child rape or stealing water supplies from the country. But he would expect her perfect obedience. She wasn't a fan of remaining in any position but the best one. Once she pledged allegiance to the party that was becoming increasingly unpopular and risked a swift and painful coup, she was done for as a stand alone next prime minister in the making. She could do so much better even with the sentence that was like a noose around her neck, for she was so much better than everyone else. She knew what rape to abolish and when to send troops to the country. She knew how to talk to people so that they expected the best outcome even when they got nothing in return for their services. 

But if she had her hands tied and Alex with the permission to exploit her to the limits, she was done for. There was no dignity in serving another man's purpose. Her people could see through the lie of the life she would get after the sentence was up. The prime minister invented a scam that was his party, that was Alex's and that was to be Cole's party too, her protector and savior, and no matter how far she stretched her lies, she would not escape the web the they had spun. 

Her only way of escaping this plan was to manipulate Alex into serving her purposes, which was never possible. One didn't simply manipulate Alexander, not even her. He would look behind every lie and when she looked at him she saw her own reflection in his face. He searched one's soul until he found what was the driving force behind their actions and their lies, so that he could make his politics with a clear mind. When he looked behind her lies, he saw a helpless, power-starved, egotistic creature, forever looking for the only release she knew, which was unlimited power over other people. When she didn't want to detox in her house, a young and inexperienced politician that she was back then, he said, going through her collection of sleeping pills, 

'You don't want this life. You're just afraid to fail. You either detox right away, or I'll have you put down, for you're no use moping about the office all day, like you have half a mind on you at all times. It's not what you came here for'.

For he would always know addiction from recreation. When his close ally started to abuse drugs, he hired an assassin and the guy didn't even know he had it coming. Because how can you trust an addict? And she never took a pill after she was done with the detox, for he would see and hire an assassin to go for her. He never trusted people twice, even though he had to navigate around their intricate webs of lies every day. 

He had his own web, too. It was delicate and as sticky as a spider's. She was drawn into it because it was in her face before she could see it from a distance, and then it would be too late. She wondered how good she would be at it this time around, if at all. The fact was she would never manipulate the man that got her off the pills enough to do what she wants him to do. She had to learn the ropes slowly, her lazy mind would gradually get used to being on alert at all times, which was so tiring after five years of relative peace and restlessness, sometimes. 

He interrupted her thoughts, reading her expression carefully, which was blank,

'It's your choice, after all. I'm not going to tell you we're missing you down there, but the truth is, it's hard to deal with all this mess. Duke is outraged we don't go and feed the country with the insides of our bodies, it seems to me. You can never talk sense into those people. Well, at least I can't.'

'Which is why you're here', she pointed out, slightly amused. 'They got under your skin. Don't let people do that do you.'

'I'm only here because Alexander asked me...'

'Made you who you are, I know', she interrupted him. 'And as he cannot manage both you and foreign affairs with equal efficacy, he wants me back to help with the office work. He could train another one like me, he has a keen eye for people and knows where to look for them. But with me, you have the leverage of a sentence and you want to buy my allegiance with it. You think Duke and the rest of them aren't going to be outraged? Just sit and watch.'

'We can still keep you here for the rest of your life or wait for Duke to take over and hang you. Which you know he'll do.'

'Unless I change sides.'

'Which you won't', he stressed, a little annoyed. 'Yeah, they're going to be outraged. That's why I'm taking you, not some random war criminal back with me to the office. I believe you of all people know how to manage outrage. Apologize, kill them, do whatever you please, but you'll have them shut up, I'm certain of that.'

She sat there laughing so hard there were tears in her eyes. He actually wanted her to kill Duke and his party colleagues. That's what he came for to a criminal, as if he couldn't go and pay an assassin to do the job properly. 

'Tell Alexander I'm ready to be on the out. I want to see a sunset on the desert, roam the streets for a bit. I want to visit my old house. I need twenty-four hours, then I'm all his.'

'Just don't get noticed', he stood up and motioned to the officer lingering about a hundred metres away from them, to come back. 'Get yourself cleaned. Get dressed properly. Treat your depression. I'm seeing you in the parliament on Monday, I'm doing media coverage next weekend, and you're on the out Sunday eight o'clock, which gives you exactly twenty-four hours for your leisure. Don't get used to it.'

She nodded silently. It was all, he could be dismissed. She picked up her book from the coffee table and began to read where she'd left off. 

'I love how you think you've everything under control', he said, offended at her insolence. 'Just think about the time people wanted to eat you alive. Who was there for you? Alexander was, I was. Marie was. We're all here for you, you need to accept it's not your private country to run as you please. If you fight any of us and then expect us to come after your enemies, think again. Clean up your own mess after yourself.'

'Right back at you', she said, not looking up from her book. 'I ran a powerful, sustainable party and how do I find it after a short absence? You ruined it for me.' The reproach in her voice was very toned down. Almost like she'd stopped to care a long time ago. Five years of reading novels and thinking of ways to get the best view of the sea, planting her own trees and watching them wither, accepting handcuffs and a claustrophobic cell, having her meals limited and scant, it changes a person forever. She tried to focus, but she couldn't make herself care enough to actually get offended by what he was saying, which was obviously untrue.

'You ruined it for yourself. I didn't technically land you in prison – you did. Your whim was to watch people die. My mistakes are apparent and very numerous, but at least they aren't exactly illegal, so I can enjoy my freedom and actually run a country, instead of providing unsolicited advice from behind bars, like you do. Get a grip, Aaron. We want you back, but don't think we can't do it ourselves.' He looked at her, a little bit concerned for a change, 'Just treat your depression, please.'

'Ask for Anthony to come down and treat me. I'm an open book. I'm depressed from the lack of stimulation and I feel terribly guilty for what I've done.'

He regarded her quietly. He thought her way of not exactly lying, yet not telling the truth either was really interesting to watch. For some reason he never doubted her feelings of guilt for the mass murder she'd orchestrated. But it was not why she was depressed, either. When he looked into her eyes he would see a blank space where there should be a soul in a healthy human being. 

'He'll call on you this week. Alexander gave me a heads up that you liked to abuse sleeping pills, so whatever you ask him for, those are off-limits.' She looked up and blinked. The sun and the conversation tired her to no end. 

'I must go to sleep soon', she said, exhaustion obvious in her voice. 

'Thank you for your time. I'm updating on your stuff starting tomorrow. Forgive me for being this blunt, but I need you gone for her to take off my cuffs, and I want them off.'

The officer took off her handcuffs right away, kneeling at her feet like she was a servant for her lady. The prime minister smiled, thanking her. The officers at the facility were mostly appointed by Duke's people, and Cole resented it a great deal. Her party, her one and only baby she gave a painful birth to, loved and raised like a mother would a deeply disabled child, it was now too ill to even manage her own sentence. The prime minister would think she resented Duke's arrangements, but she didn't, she adored the bastard for he was smart and good. It was all Dennis' fault she had to wear cuffs at all even with her own party ruling her country. 

'I'm off now', Dennis said, awkward for some reason. She watched him stroll off, like an unloved puppy. She never approved of him being the prime minister, and behind harsh words he always looked for her approval. She wanted him to toughen up; but what can you do about a person who never got blood on their hands? Can't force one's hands into a pool of carnage, they need to consent to it. You rule with manipulation, with lies, but most importantly, you rule with stopping at nothing when you have an aim in sight. 

The prime minister stopped at the gate and waited to be let out. The officer took the second chair and carried it away some place. Cole sighed, resting. 

When manipulating Alexander doesn't work, you go to the next person in charge, which was Duke. She wondered what could be done with that mind and body. What a challenge, she thought, regarding his officer, who was busily serving her needs and treating her with respect worthy of a high ranking politician that she was. It wasn't like Duke didn't believe in justice; worse, he believed in rehabilitation. He wanted to treat people like they were human beings. 

Was she truly rehabilitated? She saw blood on her hands each time she washed her hands, and she couldn't look at her naked body in the mirror, it scared her. For months food wouldn't go down, she was reminded of those who didn't eat. She could eat now, yet some days she needed help dressing up, she would lie in bed and not speak to officers for days. I'm so noble the guilt is eating me alive, she thought on those days and nights she wouldn't sleep at all. She basked in the feeling of her own guilt, throwing up food with pride of someone not above killing another, yet not above suffering for it either. She wanted to talk to Duke of this and hear his opinion. He deserved respect for the speed with which he rose to power and threatened her party, for the way he swayed people to his side, he knew how to speak so that a shiver went down your spine and your heart opened up, or so they said. She couldn't wait to hear him speak on the out.


	2. Fake

The first few days were little more than a blur. She would spend a full day lying in bed in her new apartment very near the city centre, listening to the cars coming by and people busying themselves with their daily tasks. A kid crying. Someone repairing their bathroom on the second floor, right above her bedroom. She dozed off and would wake up each time with a start, sweating terribly, very scared. As her breathing evened out and whatever dream had been troubling her mind ebbed she would take in the contents of her room, a bedside table, a desk, a wallpaper portraying an African jungle, wet and noisy with life. It was Oran once again outside the window; the dry, awfully hot, stupid summer in Oran that she felt disgusted with. Her disgust grew to nausea and then to sickness and she would spend the time in between her fitful sleep throwing up in the bathroom. She couldn't remember the last time she had anything to eat but she always made efforts to drink from the tap just enough to stay conscious and keep her kidneys working. 

And then one day a voice over the telephone informed her that she had an appointment at 11 am in Anthony's office and she instantly realized that she had already missed one appointment. She put on a white cotton blouse and a caramel leather skirt. She put make up on her face, staring vacantly ahead as she did it. She could vaguely remember herself being very put together and very pretty, a long time ago, back in her early days in the government. Her make up impeccable. Her clothing ironed out and of very good quality. And now she was floating as if she was outside of her body, but the clothes and the beauty products placed haphazardly on counter were pulling her down, were beginning to attach her back to the ground. She was thrilled at the connection she finally formed with those inanimate entities. Her clothes were what shaped her into a person again. 

And she went out into the glaring heat. 

Anthony's office was not far away. She walked there, feeling the hot air swallowing her up until she was once again nearly drowning. 

And then the a/c of his office brought her back to the present. He came in late, sat across from her at the table and sighed.

'I never thought narcissists could experience depression', he said, regarding her with that meaningless expression of his, that empty stare of someone who done seen worse and was never really surprised, whatever one might come up with to say to him.

'I never thought I've already earned myself that label', she said, resting her chin on her hands, visibly tired. 'Think whatever you want. The government isn't paying you to withhold medication from me so please hurry up with your diagnoses.'

He opened his notebook and began to scribble down in it. 'Did you have any suicidal thoughts of lately, Aaron?', he asked in that patronizing tone that would definitely drive many people mad but did nothing to her. A politician had to deal with worse daily, she thought to herself. He might be thinking he done dealt with worse but he never had to manage a cabinet full of imbeciles trying to undermine your every word and every decision, your life a nightmare that you attempt time and again to will away, to wake up from but you only do that with their blood trickling down your arms and your face. 'Any suicide attempts?'

She laughed, mirthlessly. 'I did. Not anymore, though.'

They went through the usual routine of a psychiatric check-up where she told him about her daily habits and how she slept, how she ate, how she interacted with the guards back in her prison and how she felt when finally outside the prison. In the end he gave her a prescription and warned her once again of the dangers of abusing sleeping pills.

'You're not getting any sedatives with these, so be aware you're probably going to experience severe anxiety for the next two weeks or even a bit longer', he said, like he didn't really feel bad for her. 'What a shame you got yourself in so deep with that shit. I'm only following Alexander's orders so don't take it personally. I want you to take half a pill for the first couple of days and then increase your dose. It's a real shame we have to be so quick about getting you out and ready because you could really benefit from some psychotherapy. You're not getting any, though.'

'Alex's orders, I know', she said, unimpressed. 

'That's right', he agreed. 'He wants you out and about, you realize. We don't have time for that.'

She took the prescription and began to toy with it with her hands. He moved to stand and nodded at her to do the same. She pushed herself up from the chair and walked hesitantly towards the door. 

'Just five days' worth of pills', she said very quietly, very carefully when she was standing right in front of him, her hand on the knob. 'You bloody well know you cannot give this medication without sedatives and I spent the last five years completely and utterly alone, behind bars. You're technically giving me severe panic attacks for a couple of weeks straight. It's only cruel, Anthony.'

He regarded her in silence. Then he took a pen and started to write another prescription, leaning over the table. 'Go fuck yourself', he said as he was writing, 'should've thought of that when you decided to cut off food supplies for those people.' He handed her another prescription and she looked at it dubiously. 'It's not what you hope it is', he added, 'it's propranolol, it's going to make your hands shake a bit less while you're speaking, having a fucking panic attack inside your head. It should help out with your work for the government. At least people won't worry that you're unfit to work, or something.'

Anthony opened the door and walked out impatiently, having already spent too much time serving the government. Cole watched him go, bemused. She decided against taking this medication, whatever she was going to go through should be made obvious to Alexander and make him waive her ban on benzodiazepines. But she could not legally forego the depression medication because it was required of her to treat her depression. She definitely did not want the dizziness of severe anxiety it was going to cause in her body but it was not like she had a say in that. Alexander had. 

The air outside was hot and dry, and she didn't pay much attention to that fact because it was usual for summers in Oran to be this hot and this dry. All vegetation had died away from the lack of water. The ground was dry and brittle under her feet with sand making its way into the city from outside its walls; from the desert itself. It was exhausting to be outside at this time of day; it was close to noon and she thought having a doctor's appointment at this time of day was pure cruelty on Alex's part. She deposited the prescriptions at a chemist's across the street, took her medication given out in one neat parcel and headed back home. 

She stared at the pills in their silver packagings before deciding to take half a pill and be done for the day. The telephone rang.

'The holiday's over', Alex said over the phone and she shivered inwardly, hearing his voice for the first time in five years. 'I said you get a day off and you spend a week doing nothing, miss an appointment, you useless thing. Looks like I got myself a useless criminal out of prison and now instead of help I get to have even more work on my hands.'

'Be reasonable', she said simply. 'I was sick. I don't think I'm that well now, either.'

She heard him laugh. An empty laugh she remembered from five years ago, the last time she heard him laugh exactly like this was probably when she told him a village had been cut off and it was possible that a few people died of starvation. He laughed when she finally got sentenced to prison and he laughed when she said she didn't mean for it to happen. He laughed like there was nothing funny about the whole thing, like she was a complete disaster beyond saving. But he was not worth saving either, she thought to herself in this moment, trying to recall the way he looked and wondering whether he'd changed his looks since she'd seen him last. 

'I don't want you to be well', he said. 'I want you to be able to work. I have an office all ready and prepared for you – please don't be late.'

'I'm not in the government, I can't be present at the meeting', she said. 'And I was never elected so I can't come to the parliament either.'

That laugh, once again. 'Yeah, you were not elected but I've already appointed you to be the secretary of state to the prime minister. I created that office because I'm short on people and I didn't want to remove any one of my secretaries from their offices. The elections as you know are happening very soon indeed and I want you to score some votes for me. The campaign is where your work begins. Don't let me down.' She was certain he'd already gone off-line but then he added, 'Every order you get either from me or the prime minister, including the order to treat your depression, is a real, military order for you and that's how I want you to look at it. You're going to mean a lot to the country yet again, Cole. And I want to be sure you're on my very, very short leash as you rise to power. This is not the power you remember from our early days.'

'I would never mistake a fake office for a real one, Alexander', she said. This and nothing more. He should not require of her to go along with his stupid plan to have her to be his puppet. He should really be smarter than that, smarter than to believe she would go along with such a plan. 'It is my party, remember that', she added, wondering whether she'd already said too much, too soon.

'Oh yeah', he said darkly. 'I have more on you than you can ever imagine, Cole. And things have changed a lot, both inside and outside the country. You should really meet people inside the government before you make any assumptions. This is more tough of a task than you think, and this is greater even than me and my silly threats. Who knows, it might have already changed irrevocably and there might be no turning back.'

She understood perfectly the full extent of his words and the meaning behind them. The political scene was completely different from what it had been five years ago. There were two stories unfolding themselves, seemingly separate: his selfish governing style and unwillingness to share power, and outside and inside foreign forces meddling with their policies, stirring people to question the very legality of their caste system. She could not imagine creating a government in a different system where people could no longer be simply taken out of the picture by murdering them. It was an instinct for her to murder people when they became a burden to the state. 

'I missed you, Alexander', she said. 'You're smart and ready as always. But you should really get off of me. It's not me that's the problem. And I'm well aware you're having trouble controlling things as it is now. Don't add me to the list as one more of your problems. I came to help. And I greatly appreciate you getting me out of prison and helping me to deal with my depression, I really do. Trust me.'

She waited for him to laugh but he didn't. She kind of admired how he would often intertwine sarcasm with honesty, derision with true connection. It was a skill that was hard to find in a politician. 

He broke their silence. 'I will. See you in your office, Cole.' And he hung up.


End file.
